The Wedding Present
by Undead Dungeon Master
Summary: When billionaire Richard Cryer steals a Doll, it'll take the resources of the entire Dollhouse to get her back. Features Echo as Lori Conrad. Set between "Echoes" and "Needs."
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

Adelle leaned back in her chair and contemplated the Los Angeles skyline beyond her window. She was tired; still exhausted from the effects of the N-7316 memory drug exposure. It had been only a few days since the industrial espionage at Rossum had almost blossomed into a full-scale catastrophe.

Her intercom buzzed. The digital display announced her ten o'clock appointment. With a press of a button she signaled her assistant to admit the client. While she waited for him to arrive at her door she quickly reviewed his file.

Richard Cryer, a stock analyst and broker who had built his fortune on the internet tech boom. He was one of those market geniuses who saw the crash coming, had bet against conventional wisdom and made a fortune when everyone else was losing money. All of the Dollhouse's clients were wealthy people, but Richard Cryer was wealthier than most. There were developed nations with economies smaller than Cryer's personal fortune.

Dominic entered her office. The rapport she counted on with Dominic, the subtle language of hidden gestures they shared, had broken down after the exposure. He was still embarrassed by his behavior; she wondered if he was also embarrassed by her own. She knew he'd seen the footage of her bouncing on Topher's trampoline. He fell into his place beside the door, where he stood stiffly. He was uncomfortable, but he'd been uncomfortable around her for the last few days.

Richard Cryer followed him in to the room and then stopped, confused as to were he should go next. He was tall and lean, what one would call gangly if one was being uncharitable, with a long nose that featured a prominent hook. He looked suspiciously similar to a crane and Adelle forced herself to stifle a laugh.

"Mr. Cryer, I'm Adelle DeWitt." She extended her hand and he looked at it as if it were an alien gesture before gripping it weakly and giving it a limp shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes," he agreed absently as he checked out her office. His eyes darted about furtively, as if he expected someone to jump out and catch him. Adelle rose from her seat and walked towards the couches, gesturing for Cryer to follow. He sat across from her, perched on the edge of the seat.

Adelle poured herself a cup of tea. "Can I offer you tea?"

Cryer focused on her intently for a moment, then half-heartedly shook his head. She put the kettle down and sipped from her tea. "There's no need to be nervous Mr. Cryer, I assure you we are all very discreet at the Dollhouse."

Cryer nodded absently, then shifted suddenly to the intense stare. "I'd like to get straight to the point Ms. DeWitt."

"Feel free, Mr. Cryer."

"It's about your fees. The longest engagements your fee schedule allows for is one week. So am I to assume that if I want to lease a doll for a month, I'll have to pay by the week? I ran some numbers, and if the discount for extended engagements holds true over the course of a month, then I should get a significantly reduced rate over four weekly leases. Do you understand what I'm asking Ms. DeWitt?"

"I'm afraid there has been some confusion, Mr. Cryer. We can't provide you with an active for a month long engagement. We do not engage our actives in engagements longer than one week."

Cryer blinked rapidly and looked about the room again, as if he didn't believe the response.

"But if I intend to purchase a doll I want to, um, take it for a test drive. So to speak. A week hardly seems like enough time to make that sort of long term purchase decision."

"Mr. Cryer, we don't sell our dolls. I'm afraid you have been greatly misinformed about what we offer here at the Dollhouse. We don't sell _people_, we sell experiences – the perfect experience with the perfect person for you. But it is only the _experience_ you are buying, not the person itself."

"So then you can't create the perfect wife for me?"

Adelle repressed the desire to grimace in disgust. Instead she smiled very tightly. Behind Cryer she saw Dominic bristle.

"No Mr. Cryer, I'm afraid we don't offer that particular service."

"Money is no object. I can afford to pay a great deal."

"It's not a matter of money. Our actives are volunteers who have signed five year contracts, it's simply not within our power to sell them away."

Cryer frowned and fell back into his seat. He considered the news for a few moments, then muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said I'll have to change my plans then. No time for a cruise. Very well Ms. Dewitt, I'll take one week. Your people already have all the specifications I requested, and I have the account numbers I need to wire you your payment. If there's nothing else, I'll be going. You can expect the money within an hour. I'll be expecting my doll tomorrow night."

"Of course. I'm sure you'll be quite satisfied with the _experience_."

Cryer rose and shuffled towards the elevator doors as Adelle returned to her desk. He paused once he reached them, turning as if to say something, then dismissed it with a wave of his hand and ambled onto the elevator platform. Dominic joined him and pressed a button.

As the elevator doors slid close Dominic's eyes met hers and they exchanged a knowing look. Dominic shared her disgust at Cryer's suggestion. She smiled as she sensed the rapport they had built over the last three years rebuilding itself.

Once the doors closed entirely, Adelle turned to her phone and dialed Topher's extension. He answered almost immediately.

"Mr. Brink, please come to my office."


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

Echo followed Boyd up the stairs into Topher's office. She liked Boyd, he made her feel safe. She couldn't remember who he was but knew he was important in her life. She thought perhaps he was her father, but she also sensed this was wrong. Whatever his relationship to her, she trusted him completely.

She wasn't so sure about Topher. He seemed nice, but sometimes she felt that he didn't think very much of her. There was a tone he used that made her feel small. Still, it was Topher who gave her the treatments, and she enjoyed them.

"Just have a seat Echo," Topher said with his fake smile. "This will only pinch a little."

Echo took her place in the chair and lie back. Topher turned to his machines and did his magic; the treatment began. It pinched a little, then the world dissolved in soft colored light.

Lori Conrad yawned and stretched, having fallen asleep during her treatment. She blinked as she turned her head. The technician, a disheveled dweeb in a sweater vest, was looking at her awkwardly. These little moments were probably the closest he ever came to interacting with a real woman.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Just for a little while," he responded.

"Shall I go now?"

"If you like."

Lori sat up and rubbed her eyes. To her left was Boyd, the bodyguard her father had hired. Father could have requested agents from the Secret Service, but he insisted that the taxpayers not pay for anything he could afford himself, and father was a very wealthy man. Lori liked Boyd, trusted him deeply, and knew he would always respect her privacy.

"Ready to go, ma'am?"

"I just need to change."

One of the spa's staff lead her to the changing rooms. Her dress, shoes and accessories had all been laid out for her. She took some time to apply some make-up and do up her hair. Normally she wouldn't spend so much time on such things here at the spa, but she had a date tonight and absolutely no time to drive back to Malibu. She really didn't know what she was thinking, scheduling a treatment so close to a date.

Once she was ready she met with Boyd in the lobby, and together they took the elevator down (or was it up?) to the garage, where her van was waiting. As Boyd slid the door open she wondered for a moment why father insisted she drive about in a surveillance van, but quickly pushed the thought from her head.

"Looking forward to your date?"

Lori smiled. She was looking forward to this date. Richard Cryer was quite the catch, very high profile, very successful, very _rich_. Exactly her type. It had taken all her willpower to seem disinterested and annoyed when mother had announced over brunch that she had arranged this meeting. Most of the men mother set her up with were dreadfully dull and blind to their short-comings, and it would do Lori no good at all to encourage her. Still, the thought of a date with Richard Cryer thrilled Lori. He wasn't just rich and powerful, he was richer and more powerful than her father. Lori Conrad was determined to marry upwards, and when you were the daughter of one the richest and most powerful senators in America, that was no easy task. It wouldn't do to explain any of this to Boyd however.

"One must have a positive attitude about these things."

Boyd nodded, and Lori thought she sensed a smirk hiding at the corners of his mouth. She put it out of her head, and focused on steadying her nerves. Soon they were pulling up in front of the Starfire Room. Boyd opened the door for her, and as she stepped out of the van she paused.

"Boyd, I probably won't be coming home tonight. If you _must_ follow me, please be discreet. I don't want Richard being scared off by my security detail. I know father insists, but you had better not ruin this night."

"Don't worry Miss Conrad, you won't see me at all."

"You're a dear Boyd, don't ever change."

"Same to you Miss Conrad," Boyd chuckled as he slid the door shut.

Lori headed inside the club, which was situated on the ground floor of towering office complex, and mostly attracted up and coming financial types. Few A-list celebrities would be caught dead here, and while decidedly upscale the place was far from trendy. There was no line of people waiting to get turned away.

Inside the doors Lori found a hostess who quickly guided her to table in the back, where Richard Cryer was waiting for her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her heart raced as she neared the table. Richard rose from his seat and came around the table, extending a hand. As he stepped forward he bumped into the table and jostled the glasses and other tableware. He paused awkwardly and turned his attention to the table.

Lori Conrad was in love. She was suddenly a little girl again, with her first ever crush – on Ichabod Crane in the Disney version of _Legend of Sleepy Hollow_. She could never have explained – or even admitted to – her crush on the gangly, awkward and bumbling Crane, but he had been her first love. Though she wouldn't admit it even under the most dire torture, she had even written _fan-fiction_ featuring the character, slashing him with the headless horseman. Richard Cryer seemed to be that character come to life. He even had the same nose.

"Hello Richard, I'm Lori." She offered him her hand and he shook it limply, then pulled out a chair for her, almost banging it into her knees in the process. He was, in her mind, positively adorable.

They both sat and he poured her a glass of wine. They made polite small talk, he fumbling at his questions and distracted in his answers. Every slip and faux pas made her love him more. She felt so relaxed and confident in his presence, so certain that she was in control, that she began to let her guard down.

"I have to ask you, why this club? You've got a name that will open a lot of doors Richard, we could be enjoying ourselves at a much trendier place than this."

Richard blinked, obviously shocked by the question. "Oh, this place isn't trendy? I didn't know that. I own this place."

"You own this club?"

"I own the whole building. I have a penthouse here too, if you'd like to see it."

Lori blushed. "That's a bit forward, don't you think?"

"Oh no!" Now it was Richard's turn to blush. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that I have a penthouse. And a helicopter. Have you ever been in a helicopter? It's...neat."

"A helicopter? Your own helicopter?"

"Sure. I use it to get to my yacht and back."

"Yacht?"

"I have a 400 foot cruiser out in the bay. It has a helipad. You should see it. I could take you there right now, if you wanted."

Lori bit her lower lip nervously. His own nightclub in his own building with a penthouse? A helicopter? A 400 foot yacht? Was there anything Richard Cryer didn't have?

"I'd like to see the yacht," she admitted nervously.

"Really?" Richard smiled and his eyes brightened. "Oh, okay. Yeah, let's go."

Richard rose and took Lori's hand, leading her out of the club through a door marked 'Private'. It lead to a short hallway, and from there to an elevator. As they stepped into the elevator Lori slid her arm around Richard's and leaned in close. She smiled when his eyes met hers, he blushed and looked away. She knew then that she had him.

***

Boyd leaned back in his chair, feet up on the console, and worked at the daily paper's crossword. Occasionally he would glance over at the monitors. Nothing of interest to report.

Dave (or was it Phil?) was driving today, and at the moment he was catching loud Zs in the front seat. He snorted and yawned, then turned to look at Boyd.

"Hey, I'm going to run across the street and grab some coffee. You want anything?"

"I could use a cup of joe. Black, no sugar."

Dave or Phil, whichever he was, hopped out of the van and disappeared across the street. Boyd checked the monitors again and noted that Echo was on the move, heading up towards Cryer's penthouse. Boyd checked his watch.

_Girl moves quickly_, he thought. _Hardly had time to order dinner._

A few minutes passed and Boyd took a quick scan of the street from his window. Dave/Phil was standing outside the café chatting up an attractive young woman. He hadn't even gone in yet. He checked the monitors again.

There was something wrong with the reading. The Dollhouse satellites continuously tracked Echo's movement, reporting her exact longitude and latitude to the second. Accurate within inches of her position, as well as her elevation in feet. According to her current position she was seventy feet above the buildings roof, and directly over the street.

Boyd grabbed the portable tracker and hopped out of the van, throwing his gaze upwards. Sure enough a small commercial helicopter, the sort used by the super rich to avoid ground traffic, hung in the air. It circled the building once, then took off to the west.

Boyd slammed the door shut and ran around the van, leaping into the driver's seat and revving the engine. He tossed the portable tracker on to the dash so he could see it's signal and took off after the helicopter.

As he drove he dialed the Dollhouse. Dominic answered the phone.

"What's Echo done now?"

"Was Cryer authorized to take Echo out of Los Angeles? I thought this engagement was strictly in-city."

"No, he wasn't. What's he doing?"

"He's got her in a helicopter, heading west. I'm following in the van, but he's gaining ground on me fast. Wherever he's going he's going to have plenty of time once he gets there."

"West? What's west?"

"The marina? Does Cryer have a boat docked anywhere in LA?"

"Hold on."

Traffic was getting heavier and Boyd had to toss the phone aside and take the wheel in both hands. He weaved his way through traffic at reckless speeds, mindful of the van's poor handling profile, and wishing it were a police cruiser. Or had a siren.

Luckily the helicopter was in no hurry, and Boyd only had to break every speed limit and most of Los Angeles county's traffic laws to keep its running lights in sight. As he followed it he became more and more certain that Cryer was taking Echo to the marina. Boyd hoped it would take longer for the boat to disembark than it would for him to find it.

The van crested a hill and came down hard on its suspension, which groaned in protest. The marina stretched out below him, tens of thousands of boats docked in moors. Boyd already knew he wouldn't have to search any of them. Cryer wasn't taking Echo to the marina. His helicopter was heading out into the bay.

Boyd pulled the van over and picked up the phone. Dominic was angrily demanding to know what was going on.

"I lost her. He didn't stop, just headed out over the water."

"Dammit," Dominic snarled into the phone. "Just get back here."


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Dominic growled something under his breath as he battered Topher's door aside and stormed into the treatment room. Boyd followed a few steps behind. Topher blinked in surprise and jumped to his feet. He moved quickly to hide the donut in his hand behind his back. He blinked again and remembered to grab his coffee, still sitting on the multi-million dollar computer that ran the chair, hiding that behind his back as well.

"What do you mean you can't track her? What are we paying you for anyways Topher!"

"Whoa, hold on Dom!" Topher stepped back and held his hand up in front of himself to ward Dominic off, but to Boyd it looked like Topher was offering Dominic breakfast. "That's not my job! I just program them. You want to yell at someone for losing Echo, yell at Boyd! He's the one whose supposed to be her shadow!"

Boyd shrugged. "Dominic already yelled at me."

Dominic shot him a withering glare but immediately turned his attention back to Brink.

"The tracking implant Topher, why aren't we getting a reading?"

"I don't know! There's all kinds of reasons the signal could be blocked. Military grade anti-surveillance shielding would do it. But maybe he threw her overboard and she's too deep to get a signal! Or maybe his yacht is actually a submarine! How should I know? All I know is what you know: that he flew Echo five miles off the coast and disappeared."

Dominic continued to yell at Topher, Topher continued to make excuses. Boyd ignored them both and took a look at Topher's monitors. They showed the same information as his readouts in the van. They were currently showing information on Echo.

"You said something about shielding. Could you do that on a yacht?"

Topher set down the coffee and donut, running a hand through his hair as he let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I suppose. Just the cabin though, no way to shield a deck."

"That's what I thought. So Echo must be on the deck."

Dominic and Topher both stopped and stared at Boyd. He pointed to the monitor and they followed his finger. Topher's eyes went wide as he rushed to the computer.

"Echo is back online!"

"Where is she?" Dominic growled.

"Hold on, the satellites are trying to get a fix on her. Okay she's – that can't be right. She's 200 miles off the coast of California and heading east."

***

Lori turned in to the wind and took a deep breath, trying to enjoy the salty spray that came across the bow. The powerful boat crashed through another wave and the deck rolled beneath her. She had been sailing many times before, but never in swells like these. It was making her a little seasick.

Richard appeared behind her with a glass of champagne.

"Find the cabin boring?"

"Oh, no. I'm just feeling, you know, a little green. Thought some fresh air might help."

Lori took the glass and sipped from it. She wasn't sure she needed more alcohol, Richard had been pouring drinks into her since they'd arrived on his yacht. Not that she had any plans to resist him, should he try something. She rather hoped he would try something, and tossed back the glass. She giggled as the bubbles caused her nose to crinkle.

"Oh, excuse me. You know Richard, we've hardly stepped foot out of that cabin since we arrived. Don't you enjoy the sea? I can't imagine owning a ship like this and not taking advantage of it. Can't you feel the ocean spray? Isn't it lovely?"

Richard smiled sheepishly. "Not as lovely as you."

Lori laughed. He was so corny, so earnest. It was adorable.

"Really though, we should go inside. I have Dramamine, it will help with the seasickness."

"Alright, we'll go back inside."

Richard smiled and took her elbow gently, guiding her back towards the cabin. She wondered if he was afraid of the sea. She'd read it was a common phobia, and Richard did seem the sort who would buy a luxury yacht simply to own one. Which was fine with her. She was quite willing to enjoy his luxuries for him.

***

"Where'd she go?" Dominic fumed. "Bring her back!"

Almost as soon as they'd come on, Echo's vital signs had gone dead and her GPS tracker fell silent again.

"I'm not doing anything Dom! If I could bring her back I would. But I can't!"

"Okay, calm down. Just everyone take a deep breath. Obviously Cryer has Echo, and obviously he's got her on his yacht, where he's clearly got some kind of shielding. Now she seems to be moving about, so for the moment let's assume she's okay and doesn't know she's being kidnapped. Apparently Cryer is taking her to Australia, or possibly Asia. Now, has anyone told DeWitt?

Topher blinked rapidly and looked back and forth from Dominic to Boyd. "Not it!"

"I'll tell her," Dominic growled. Shooting a glance at Boyd he added: "But you're coming with me to do it."

***

Inside the cabin Richard fumbled around under the bar, looking for the Dramamine. While he searched, Lori looked about the well appointed stateroom. A small bookcase caught her eye and she moved closer to examine it.

Most of the books appeared to be about economics, no surprise given Richard's interest in markets. A well-worn copy of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged sat nestled between dense tomes of dry theory.

"Oh, Ayn Rand! I love her!"

"Do you? That's a signed first edition. I met her once you know. Very nice lady."

"Really? Oh that must have been a treat. You know, I've often thought of myself as being like Dagny Taggart, always searching for my John Galt."

Richard appeared at her side, another glass of champagne at the ready. She took it and he held out his other hand, revealing two small blue tablets.

"What's that?"

"The Dramamine, for your stomach."

"Oh, of course." She took the pills from him and washed them down quickly as Richard picked up his own glass and lifted it up.

"I'd like to propose a toast."

"A toast? To what?"

"Here's to the Dagny Taggarts of the world, may they all find their John Galt."

Lori raised her glass and it clinked against Richard's own.

"I think she may already have," she whispered into her glass as Richard reached for the bottle, ready to pour more. She walked over to the leather couch that dominated the far wall of the cabin and took a seat, patting the cushion next to her to invite Richard to join her. He sat down nervously and she rested her hand on his knee. He was trembling slightly.

"So tell me, what's your favorite part of Atlas?"

Lori nodded and smiled as Richard tried to explain why it was his favorite book, not really interested in his answer but happy to feign it. She knew the topic would relax his guard and help him to open up. His answer was actually rather interesting, and she began to glimpse the powerful mind of a master strategist that must lurk behind his nebbish and ineffectual exterior, but try as she might she couldn't keep her eyes open.

Soon she found herself apologizing for a yawn and blaming the alcohol for her drowsiness. She leaned in close to Richard and rested her head on his shoulder. His hand slid gently across her hair as he brushed it from her face and the cabin faded away. She drifted off into sleep.

***

As soon as the doll fell asleep, Richard rose, gently sliding her down on to the couch. He moved quickly to the intercom and pressed the button.

"Doctor Joyce? She's unconscious. You can come up now."

Richard paced back and forth nervously as he waited for the doctor to arrive, casting sidelong glances at the doll as it slept on his couch. Not it, he thought, her. It's not a robot, he reminded himself. _She's_ not a robot.

Doctor Joyce arrived. The old man had clearly been drinking, his nose was as red and round as a ripe cherry tomato.

"Are you sober enough to perform the surgery?"

"Surgery? Pshaw, Mr. Cryer. What you've asked me to do is as much surgery as removing a wart or lancing a boil. I could do this in my sleep. You gave her the pills?"

"Yes, she took them both. Plenty of alcohol as well. You're sure it won't cause a bad reaction? I don't want her to die."

Joyce set his little black bag down next to the couch and grabbed the doll's legs, stretching her out on the couch and then rolling her onto to her stomach.

"Pretty sure. Alcohol just makes them kick in faster. Should last awhile. We'll be in Kiribati before she wakes up."

As he assured Richard that she would be fine, he drew a small black case from his bag, followed by handheld device which he ran up along the doll's spine. It made a soft ping sound near the base of her neck.

"Is that it?" Richard asked as he watched over the doctor's shoulder.

"Ayup." Joyce pressed his fingers hard into the base of the doll's next and opened the small case with his other hand, dextrously removing a gleaming steel scalpel. With a few deft strokes he had opened up the back of her neck. Then, as if he were a Vegas magician, a pair of tweezers appeared in his hand as the scalpel disappeared. He reached into the small, bloody incision he'd made and pulled hard.

The doll twitched for a second and Joyce held up his prize. It was about three centimeters long, black and studded with silver pins. The dollhouse's tracking device. Joyce smiled and dropped it into Richard's champagne flute.

"Easiest million dollars I ever made," he offered with a smile, and both men chuckled.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

The world was bright, sharp and full of colors. There were objects in space that did not have names. A girl was sprawled out over a couch. She tried to remember her name and her mind filled with a flood of images and sounds that meant nothing.

She struggled to her feet and stumbled across the space. There was a sound and she turned around. There was a man. His face was round with thinning white hair and a red bulb nose. His face cracked open in a wide smile.

"Irol? Era uoy thgirla?"

His words made no sense, but she knew they should make sense. It terrified her that she could not name the space she was in, the objects around her. She staggered back, retreating from the man and throwing her hands up.

He rushed forward and grabbed her arms, pining them to her sides.

"Irol!"

As she struggled with him her mind exploded with images, sounds and memories. A confused jumbled of things contradicting themselves. A dark haired man was laughing at her and shaking a bible. He said 'I tried to burn you alive! Who does that?'

She screamed as the world collapsed in darkness.

***

Lori woke with a pounding headache. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper, which went well with the taste of sawdust in her mouth. She struggled to sit up and found herself strapped down. The grogginess was replaced by the sharp clarity of panic.

She struggled against the ropes and cried out for help. She could move her head and look around the room. It was a large atrium, with a tile floor and two walls that consisted entirely of glass windows. White cotton sheets hung in the open frames and gently fluttered in the breeze. Beyond the windows she saw blue skies and palm trees. Closer by she saw a steel cart that held medical equipment. She realized she'd been fitted with a IV drip.

"Lori? Is that you?"

Lori twisted her head to find the voice. It was an older man, with receding white hair, and round, plump face. His nose and cheeks were red from too much drinking. He wore a white medical jacket.

"Am I in a hospital? Are you a doctor?"

"Yes Lori, I am a doctor. And no, you're not in a hospital. You're on Mr. Cryer's estate. How much do you remember Lori?"

"We we're on the yacht. I fell asleep and. I don't know. I think I had a nightmare."

Lori tried to raise her hand and was reminded of the restraints. The doctor immediately began to release them.

"What you had was a very rare and almost fatal reaction to mixing Dramamine and alcohol. We we're quite worried about you Miss Conrad. It was very touch or go there for a while, and you did a bit of sleep walking. I'm afraid you hurt yourself -"

Lori yelped as she sat up and felt a shock of pain. She gingerly touched the back of her neck, feeling a small gauze patch.

"As I was saying, you hurt yourself. Hence the restraints. You seem to be fine now. You can get up if you like."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Almost a full day. You're quite lucky that Mr. Cryer was able to return you to his home so quickly, and that he can afford his own personal doctor."

Rising to her feet, Lori wobbled for a moment and steadied herself by leaning on the doctor.

"I'm sorry, I feel a bit dizzy. What did you say your name was?"

The doctor held out his hand. "Alfred Joyce. Pleased to meet you."

Lori shook his hand. He had a strong, firm grip.

"The pleasure's mine Doctor Joyce. I guess a thank you for saving my life is in order."

"All in a day's work for the good doctor," offered Richard from the door. He was wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt, with sunglasses perched on top of his head. Quite different than the suit and tie he'd worn the night before. He seemed far more confident and outgoing. She wondered if it was the clothes alone that made the man, or if there was something more. She realized she was staring at him and he was looking at her with concern. "How are you feeling Lori?"

"A bit, I don't know. Spacey."

He held out his arm and Dr. Joyce guided her to him. As she steadied herself against him, he began guiding her out of the atrium.

"You gave me quite a scare there. One minute we were discussing Atlas Shrugged and the next you're on the floor flopping around."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I probably shouldn't have had so much to drink."

"No, it's entirely my fault. I should have read the warning label on the Dramamine. I mean I almost killed you!"

Lori took in the house as they walked. It was done in the old English Colonial style, with large open windows that let in the light and tropical air. As they passed through the living room she caught sight of a broad white sand beach and blue-green framed by palms and a small garden of tropical plants.

"Where are we?"

"Oh this place? I picked this up a few years ago. Do you like it?"

"No, I mean is this Malibu?

"More or less. Do you want to go down to the beach?"

"I'm actually pretty hungry, can we go to the kitchen?"

"Sure, I'll have Kohia make you some breakfast."

Richard lead her to the kitchen, where a heavyset older latina woman was busy descaling a large fish. As soon as they entered she stopped to wash her hands, then almost immediately set out a pair of glasses and decanter of iced tea, which she poured for both of them.

"Mauri Mister Cryer, ko uara?"

"I'm very well Kohia, and yourself?"

"Ae kamanua, as well as can be Mr, Cryer. Who is your tahine friend?"

"This is Miss Conrad. Lori, this is Kohia. Kohia, Lori was hoping to get something to eat?"

"Oh yes, you wait here Miss Lori, I'll make you up something real good."

Kohia disappeared in the pantry as Lori took a seat at the large kitchen island.

"What was that language she was speaking? I thought my Spanish was pretty good, but I didn't catch a word of that."

"Oh, that wasn't Spanish, it was Gilbertese. It's only spoken by about a hundred thousand people. Kohai is Kiribati."

"Kiribati?"

"It's a small island nation in Micronesia."

"Oh, I thought maybe she was Brazilian."

"No, she's polynesian."

Lori blushed. "You must think I'm awful. Here I am just assuming that she's latino because she's part of the house staff."

Richard waved it off with a smile. "I'm not worried about political correctness, why should you be?"

"So where did you learn Gilbertese? Do you do a lot of business in Kiribati?"

"No, my father did though. He made his fortune mining the islands, and I spent a lot of my childhood here."

"Here?"

"Sorry, I meant there."

Kohia returned with a small basket of fruit and immediately began slicing it up and tossing it in a bowl. A dash of sugar and spices, a squeeze of lemon, and a minute later she placed the colorful bowl before Lori with a smile. Lori picked up a fork and lifted one of the many chunks of fruit to her lips. She thought it might be papaya, but she really didn't know.

"Lori, I'd like to ask you a question."

The fruit had a light flavor, which was complemented nicely by the sugar and lemon. Lori wondered if she was tasting pepper. Who puts pepper on fruit, she wondered, then decided it was delicious.

"Hmm?" she asked between bites.

"I know we've just met, and so far our time together has been unusual to say the least, but. Well. I think we've really made a connection. And I was wondering."

Lori looked at Richard. He was staring at the ground, contemplating his shoes.

"Yes?"

"Ah, would you like to spend the weekend? We can go down to the beach, take one of the boats out. Do you surf?"

"Surf? Oh my god, I haven't surfed in years!" Lori placed her hand on Richard's arm and felt a little electrical tingle. "I'd love to stay the weekend."

Richard eyes met hers and they both smiled nervously.

***

Boyd leaned against Topher's computer stack, watching him enter information into the computer.

"So tell me about this woman Echo thinks she is, tell me about Lori Conrad."

"Not much to tell. Pretty standard fantasy material. A little bit surf bunny, a little bit Orange Country republican housewife, a whole lot of daddy issues. I call it the Dagny Taggart Special."

"Dagny Taggart?"

"Yeah, all these rich money guys draw their fantasies from Ayn Rand. They all think they're John Galt, and they all want a woman who will tell them that."

"I'm not familiar with Ayn Rand."

"Your aren't missing much." Topher leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile on his face. "These guys, you know, they spend their whole lives trying to make money and have everything, all in the hope that some woman will like them for it. But the reality is women don't like men for their stuff. Women like men for much more primal reasons, the way a man smells, the timbre of his voice, the way he makes them feel. A man has to have personality, presence, to attract a woman. The money and power is just icing on the cake."

"But these guys, our clients --"

"All icing, no cake."

Boyd nodded, a bit surprised by Topher's depth. He shouldn't be. For all his eccentricities, Topher spent his whole life studying how people's minds worked. What made them tick. His insight into human behavior was impressive, though it made his lack of social graces all the more baffling.

Dominic opened the door to Topher's office and stepped to the side, holding it open as Adele DeWitt entered. Her jaw was set tight, a small frown resting on her lips. Victor and Sierra hovered outside the door. Victor seemed curious and confused, while Sierra simply stared blankly into space.

"We have a lead on Echo's whereabouts." Adele paced the length of Topher's office, and all three men watched her walk. "Cryer owns a small island in Micronesia, something he bought off the Kiribati government."

"Wow, very Dr. No." Topher looked around the room, waiting for a laugh. When none came he seemed disappointed.

"Yes," Adele finally offered icily. "Topher, you'll need to imprint Victor and Sierra with a full stealth insertion and rescue package. Make sure they have a working knowledge of the area and the language, and they'll need to be able to pilot a boat."

"Gotcha." Topher turned to his computer and began punching up different sets of data. "Two ninja pirates coming up."

"Boyd, she's your active so you'll be leading the mission. I want her back Boyd, right away. No one steals from the Dollhouse, I want that made crystal clear."

"And Cryer?"

Adele scowled as she considered Cryer. "I don't care. So long as he is never a problem for us again."


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Richard had claimed business to attend to, and left her to her own devices so Lori spent the morning relaxing in the small garden between the house and the beach, regaining her energy. Kohai came out to check on regularly, bringing her water and iced tea, then eventually lunch. She set out two plates with sandwichs, and Lori raised an eyebrow.

"Mister Cryer will be joining you," Kohai explained with a smile. "You are very lucky tahine, Mister Cryer is a very good man. He has done many good things for the island."

Lori's eyebrow went up at the word 'island,' and she looked out towards the long stretch of white sand and blue green waters. Was she on an island? Richard had said that they were near Malibu, but there were no islands near Malibu. Unless Richard's estate was on the Channel Islands. Was Richard so powerful that he could build an estate on National Park land?

As she mused over this possibility Richard appeared at her shoulder, surprising her out of her reverie.

"Richard, joining me for lunch?"

"For the rest of the afternoon," he promised as he took a seat across from her. "I thought we might take a walk down along the beach."

"That would be lovely."

"I considered breaking out the surfboards, but it can wait for tomorrow. You still need to recover."

"You don't have to worry so much Richard, or try so hard. I feel fine, I'm having an excellent time. I love your house, this is beautiful spot."

"Oh, good. Good. I'm glad you like it."

He smiled, she smiled back, and they turned their attention to Kohai's sandwiches. After they ate Richard stood and offered her his hand. She took it and he lead her down towards the beach. They walked hand in hand, with a warm tropical breeze at their back. Lori sighed contentedly. Add some soft new age music and it was the fulfillment of her every romantic desire.

As they walked he talked about his business, and she nodded and feigned interest. The point, she decided, was to impress on her how much money Richard had, and how much other people were willing to trust him with their own fortunes. She was duly impressed.

Gently she steered him away from talk of stocks and portfolios and towards discussion of his father, and the way the old man had impressed upon Richard the principles of sound investing and creative entrepreneurship. He choked up a bit when he spoke of how much he had wanted to impress his father, and how sad he'd been when the elder Cryer had passed on before he had achieved his greatest successes. She slipped her arm through him and leaned in close as they walked, feeling closer to him now than she had to any man in her life.

"All of the work I do for the islands, I do because of him."

"The Channel Islands?"

Richard looked at her strangely. "No, Kiribati."

It was Lori's turn to look at him oddly now. She was about to ask him where exactly they were when a booming voice interrupted their conversation: "Mauri Mister Cryer!"

The owner of the voice was large, barrel chested man. Again Lori's first thought was that he was latino, but as he approached he realized that he was Polynesian, like Kohai. He wore long shorts that hung past his knees, and no shirt. His upper arms were covered in thick black tribal tattoos. Behind him, further up the beach were three other young men. Lori realized they were surfers, waxing their boards.

"Mauri Beniamina," Richard shouted back. "Kam rabwa?"

"Awesome!" The man reached them and extended a hand towards Lori. She took it and he squeezed her hand. "Beniamina, but everyone calls me Big Ben."

Big Ben was right. He was huge, towering over Richard, who was himself quite tall. But more than height, Ben had girth on his side. Lori and half her sorority could have fit inside the mountain sized man. She felt no threat from him at all though, one look into his gleaming eyes promised that he had the soul of a child.

"My word," she mocked a swoon. "You're as big as a mountain!"

Ben smiled and looked at Richard.

"It's a really big hill." Then to Lori: "Ben's never seen a mountain, he's lived his whole life on the island."

Lori blinked. That was unusual.

"You catch any waves today Mister Cryer?"

"Afraid not, maybe tomorrow."

"You didn't miss anything today. Tomorrow should be good though, there's supposed to be some killer waves breaking off the South fork."

"We'll check it out," Richard promised. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and Big Ben's eyes went from Richard to Lori and back to Richard.

"Oh, I'll leave you two alone! Ti a bo, Cryer!"

"Ti a bo Ben," Richard chuckled as the giant man ambled back up the beach. As he approached the other surfers Lori could hear them speaking excitedly in that same strange language that Kohai spoke.

"Where are we Richard, and don't tell me Malibu."

"What?"

"I know were on an island, and everyone is speaking that Glibbertiflibit language --"

"Gilbertese."

"Gilbertese, right. And. And. Are we in Kiribati?"

"Yes, we're on the island of Butaritari."

"And where is that, exactly?"

"Exactly? It's at 3 degrees north, and --"

Lori playfully punched Richard's shoudler and he smiled. "Don't give me that, you know what I mean."

"Okay, draw a line between Hawaii and Australia, and we're about halfway along that line. Does that help? The South Pacific."

"What? But we left from LA? I thought you turned around when I got ill?"

"No, when you collapsed I told Dr. Joyce I wanted you taken to my estate, so we came directly here."

"Wasn't LA closer?"

"Yes, but. Well, I wanted you to come here. I needed you to see this place, see how beautiful and precious it is. You know, we may be the last generation that will truly be able to appreciate these islands. Within the next century they'll have disappeared, drown under rising sea levels due to global warming."

"I'm just, I don't know, this is very confusing Richard. I feel like, I don't know. Like I've been kidnapped. Dr. Joyce was _on_ the yacht? Oh my god Richard, did. Did you you drug me?"

"Oh no, no please don't see it like that. It's just, Lori, since the moment I met you, I knew. I knew you were the one for me. It's like someone cooked you up in lab, like they took bits and pieces of different people and assembled the perfect woman for me, put her in the perfect body. I'm madly in love with you Lori Conrad, and when I love something I bring it here. Because this place is paradise."

"Richard, this is all, it's very unusual. I mean, I have very strong feelings for you too, but oh my god Richard! You don't take someone to a foreign country when they're unconscious!"

"I, I'm sorry. I just wanted to bring you here so I could, so I could. Wait just a second." Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box, the sort that hold rings. Lori gasped as he dropped to one knee and opened the box, revealing a glittering band of white gold and diamonds. So many diamonds. And so large. Up the beach the four surfers, who were still watching them intently, began to cheer and shout in that strange language.

"Lori Conrad, will you marry me?"

As the words tumbled out of his mouth, something inside Lori switched on like a lightbulb and suddenly she understood. Richard Cryer was insane. She was in terrible, terrible danger.

**EARLIER**

"Mr. Brink, I need to see you in my office."

Adelle sat back in her chair and sighed heavily. Sometimes this job was too much for her and she wished she could leave, but one does not leave the Dollhouse.

Richard Cryer was a rich and powerful man, the sort of man one said no to. He was also a smart, calculating man who did not take no for an answer. He had caved to Adelle's principles far too easily, and she knew he had something planned. Something she would not approve of.

The elevator doors opened and Topher Brink stepped nervously into her office. "Hey there boss lady. Did I do something wrong?"

"I don't know Topher, do you think you did something wrong?"

Topher squirmed and Adelle smiled. He was beyond a genius, easily the smartest man in her operation, but for all his intelligence he was as easy to manipulate as a eleven year old boy on a sugar rush. She decided to let him off the hook.

"I called you up here to discuss an upcoming engagement for Echo. I need you to create a secondary set of parameters that will only come into play when Echo is exposed to a set key phrase."

"Sure, that's easy peasy. What's the key phrase?"

"Will you marry me?"

**NOW**

Lori backed away from Richard, her heart pounding with fear. He rose from his feet and stepped towards her, reaching out for her with a puzzled expression.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed as she scrambled back, slipping in the sand and stumbling to the ground. Up the beach the four surfers exchanged puzzled looks.

Lori struggled to her feet, batting away Richard's hand as he reached for her. The surfers began walking towards them, quickly breaking into a jog as they saw Lori's panic.

"No, don't touch me!" She took another cautious step away and then turned and ran. The soft sand of the beach softened every step, and made running laborious. She slipped and fell again, only to stagger back to her feet.

Behind her the surfers had reached Richard. He was forced to stop and make up excuses for her behavior. By the time he'd convinced them she was simply "very emotional," Lori had disappeared.


End file.
